


Shadows of Azkaban

by edna_blackadder



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-08-12
Updated: 2004-08-12
Packaged: 2017-12-07 08:03:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/746215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edna_blackadder/pseuds/edna_blackadder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-OotP.  Emmeline Vance is sent to collect Sturgis Podmore after he is released from Azkaban pending enquiries...and she has to tell him what happened at the Department of Mysteries.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shadows of Azkaban

**Author's Note:**

> This was written before HBP, which made it far more tragic than I originally intended. Also, I cannot apologize enough for Stan Shunpike's accent.

One week later, Emmeline Vance could still remember the chill that had run down her back when she returned to Headquarters and saw the note, and the way her throat constricted when she saw Remus Lupin staring down at it, his face buried in his hands.

The note was in Sirius Black’s hurried handwriting, and read: Emergency: Disapparate to DoM immediately, we need more men—Harry in danger, other students—spare no time!

At first, Emmeline had felt an impulse to shout at Remus, to demand to know why he was sitting sorrowfully when Harry Potter was in danger, and then she had realised that the danger, whatever it was, had passed, and that something terrible had happened.

Her immediate thought was that they had been unable to save Harry, and she had asked Remus, her voice trembling, if he was all right.

That was when Remus, dried and unacknowledged tears still shining on his face, assured her that Harry was not all right; how could he be all right when his godfather was dead? Emmeline’s heart lurched—Sirius was dead, and she wasn’t even there. She had been out in the country, posing as a journalist taking a survey, trying to gauge the people’s feelings about Voldemort. Those whose answers showed promise were shortlisted to be watched, and possibly recruited, by the Order of the Phoenix. Having been on the move, she was not contacted directly and was left to discover the situation through a half-hearted note on the kitchen table.

Emmeline did not press Remus for details. She knew how close he had been to Sirius, and like several other Order members had oft suspected a much more intimate connection between the two men. Instead, she merely sat down next to him to wait. After what seemed like eternity, although it had only been about an hour, Kingsley Shacklebolt Apparated into the kitchen with a resounding crack. It was he who gave her the full story, which she would now have to relate to an undoubtedly weak and emotionally unpredictable Sturgis Podmore.

Emmeline had been sent to take Sturgis back to Headquarters. He was to be transported from Azkaban to the Ministry by an Auror called Dawlish. Emmeline had hoped that Kingsley or Nymphadora Tonks would be able to do this, but Tonks was still in St Mungo’s and Kingsley was working to clear Sirius’s name posthumously. It was uncertain whether he would succeed, as Wormtail had not been sighted and Sirius himself could no longer speak on his own behalf. Given the manner of his death, Cornelius Fudge might not even believe he was gone. Though she whole-heartedly wished Kingsley success, Emmeline had known Dawlish at Hogwarts and she did not trust him. She had wanted to go all the way to Azkaban, but as she was not Sturgis’s family she was not allowed to attend him.

Sturgis couldn’t possibly have known the emotion his arrest had evoked in her. Emmeline was not even sure why, but looking back she realised that she had taken it far more harshly than anyone else in the Order. Stranger still was the fact that similar things had happened during their years in the original Order, and much worse, but she had never felt such raw anger before except when someone was killed. She did not permit herself to wonder if the simple reason for her violent reaction was that it had happened to Sturgis.

In those early days, Emmeline had been reserved, even more reserved than she was now. Sturgis, a playful intellectual, wanted to feel at ease with his fellow Order members, especially considering the dangerous, tense circumstances that were, at the time, a way of life. He had set himself the task of breaking through her stately exterior, going out of his way to initiate conversation with her, paying careful attention when she spoke to the group—just generally letting her know that, by him at least, she was appreciated, and she could return the favour by opening up to him.

She did respond, and it seemed to please him enormously, although not in a way that suggested a schoolboy crush. Emmeline had come to like Sturgis very much, and she had noticed, for the first time, that he was rather handsome with his straw-coloured hair, square-jawed face and oddly charming demeanor. She had almost wondered if she might have a schoolgirl crush on him, but before she could answer that question satisfactorily, Hallowe’en 1981 accomplished the Order’s goal while also setting in motion a chain of events that would shatter it. The attack on the Longbottoms completed that chain, and Emmeline had only seen Sturgis once or twice every few years between then and the reformation of the Order. Her feelings for him, if she could even call them that, had already begun to cool in light of more pressing matters.

Emmeline had been glad to see that Sturgis too had rejoined the Order, and despite some moments of awkward tension they had managed, through several meetings, to resurrect their onetime friendship. Things had been going rather well, and then he had the misfortune to be on guard duty when Lucius Malfoy had fired an Imperius curse at the door. It could have happened to anyone.

Emmeline sighed and sat back in her chair. She was waiting in the office of Amelia Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Madam Bones had been kind enough to offer her an armchair, a copy of the Daily Prophet, a box of chocolates and even a Ministry car with a driver, as it was unlikely Sturgis would feel up to travelling by a potentially head-spinning magical method. Emmeline was grateful, and she wondered, as several others had before, if Madam Bones wasn’t too high up in the Ministry to be considered for Order membership.

Emmeline had not waited long when the door swung roughly open. Dawlish appeared, dragging Sturgis at his side. Emmeline gasped and leapt to her feet; Sturgis was shivering head to foot; his teeth were chattering; his robes were torn in places; his face was smudged with dirt and he was sporting a particularly nasty black eye. He was deathly pale, gaunt and dishevelled. It was all she could do not to race to his side.

As Emmeline stared at him, horrorstruck, Sturgis’s eyes darted about the room, landing first on Emmeline, then on Madam Bones, then on the empty office space between them. He blinked twice, then slumped his shoulders, looking crestfallen.

Madam Bones, to Emmeline’s immense relief, stood up and addressed Dawlish directly. ‘You have his papers, I assume? Malfoy’s admission, or I should say, boast, of having performed the Imperius curse, thereby suspending his convictions? Mr Podmore,’ she continued, turning to Sturgis, ‘I must remind you that you are not yet cleared of these charges. We have only Lucius Malfoy’s word, given under duress, and Albus Dumbledore’s kind offer to vouch for you. You will appear before the Wizengamot on a date to be determined, but until that time you may go home and recuperate, as there is no longer sufficient evidence to keep you in Azkaban. Do you understand?’

Still shaking, Sturgis nodded. Madam Bones turned back to her colleague. ‘The papers, Dawlish.’

Dawlish, looking thoroughly put out, reached into his pocket for a scroll, which he handed to his superior. Madam Bones read it quickly and signed it, then motioned to Emmeline.

‘Madam Vance, you are his escort; you need to sign, too. Here—’

Emmeline realised that she had been staring, as if transfixed, at Sturgis. This could hardly have been making things any easier for him, and mentally kicking herself, she tore her eyes away, walked over to Madam Bones’s desk, and signed where indicated.

‘Thank you. You are free to go. An owl will be sent to Mr Podmore when his trial date is set. Your Ministry driver awaits you in the Atrium. Madam Vance, do not hesitate to give Mr Podmore some chocolate. Good evening to you both.’

‘Shouldn’t I escort them out?’ asked Dawlish. Emmeline was severely tempted to curse him.

‘No. Their driver will be a perfectly suitable watchdog, and I think one need only look at Mr Podmore to be convinced that he will not be causing mayhem between my office and the Atrium. Good night.’

Emmeline reached into her bag for the chocolates Madam Bones had given her, anger rising in her chest at the fact that Dawlish had apparently neglected to give Sturgis anything throughout the journey from Azkaban to London. She hurried to Sturgis’s side, pressed some chocolate into his hand, and wrapped an arm around him. His body was practically frozen, causing her to do a slight double take. ‘Let’s go,’ she murmured, gently steering him out of Madam Bones’s office and shutting the door behind them. Sturgis seemed to melt into her side, barely managing to stuff the chocolate, whole, into his mouth. Emmeline stopped walking, looked Sturgis straight in the eye, and embraced him tightly.

Sturgis managed to return the hug. Emmeline shuddered involuntarily as his hands touched her back—he was so cold. Without drawing away from her, Sturgis swallowed the chocolate and whispered, ‘Is it just you, then?’

Emmeline nodded. ‘Yes, I’m afraid so.’

Sturgis looked, if possible, even sadder and shabbier than he had already done. ‘I’m sorry, Emmeline,’ he whispered, his voice breaking, ‘I sh-sh-should th-thank you—I j-just th-thought D-D-Dumble-dore would b-be h-here—or at l-least s-s-someone—’

‘Sturgis, calm down,’ Emmeline whispered, handing him another piece of chocolate and guiding his hand to his mouth as she spoke. ‘Don’t be ashamed. More would be here, if they could, but under the present circumstances—’ She paused. ‘No one has forgotten you, Sturgis.’

Sturgis swallowed and made an unsuccessful attempt to get himself under control. He began stammering again, but Emmeline placed a gentle yet commanding finger to his lips. ‘All will be explained as soon as we leave the Ministry. Until then, have some more chocolate; you’re frozen.’ And she pressed another piece into his mouth.

Sturgis chewed the chocolate obediently and allowed Emmeline to lead him to the lift. All was going smoothly—or as smoothly as it could in a situation like this—until the lift began to move; Sturgis, weak and unsteady on his feet, lost his balance and knocked Emmeline over so that they tumbled to the floor together in a tangled heap. Sturgis did not even try to extricate himself; in fact, he did the exact opposite. He wound his arms tightly around Emmeline, burying his face in her shoulder.

‘You can have no idea—’ he began, before his voice broke and a sob escaped. Emmeline was unused to this, and could not think what to do except to hold him. She was not a particularly touchy-feely person, and could not think of a time in her life when her shoulder had ever been cried on. Sturgis took several short, ragged breaths and collapsed against her, trembling with cold and thoroughly exhausted. A cool female voice was rattling off useless information about the Ministry, which neither Emmeline nor Sturgis bothered to register. They reached the Atrium and the lift doors opened. Emmeline sighed.

‘We’re there, Sturgis,’ she said quietly. He moaned softly, clinging to her robes in desperation. ‘Here,’ she said, offering another piece of chocolate, ‘eat this, and then try to move.’

Sturgis obeyed. A crowd was beginning to form at the lift door, waiting impatiently for them to leave. A young, pimpled wizard came hurrying towards them, pushing the others aside. He pulled Sturgis to his feet and turned to help Emmeline, but to his dismay saw that she had stood up on her own and was brushing off her robes, reverting instinctively to the dignified, unruffled persona she always used with strangers.

‘Hello,’ she said, ‘my name is Emmeline Vance, and you are?’

‘Stan Shunpike, m’lady,’ he replied in a heavy accent. ‘Yer driver.’

‘Don’t you conduct the Knight Bus?’ she asked, surveying him suspiciously.

‘Used to,’ he answered. ‘But the Ministry pays better. Are you and yer friend ready?’

‘We are indeed,’ she said without dropping her clipped tone. She strode quickly over to Sturgis and wrapped an arm about his shoulders, leading him ahead as they followed Stan Shunpike outside and into the car. Shunpike patted the front seat, but Emmeline shook her head and climbed into the back with Sturgis.

‘Where to, then, m’lady?’

Emmeline had not thought of that. She could not say, ‘Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place,’ for obvious reasons, and she had to think quickly. Fortunately a solution presented itself. ‘King’s Cross Station, please.’

King’s Cross was not only a believable destination, it was close enough to Grimmauld Place to be within walking distance but far enough away that no one would be likely to connect the two. Sturgis looked at her questioningly, which Shunpike, thankfully, failed to notice. Emmeline threw him a warning look, then found herself thrust backward as Shunpike was clearly just as bad a driver as his onetime partner, Ernie Prang.

‘If I may be so bold as to ask, how long have you been in the employ of the Ministry of Magic?’

‘Jus’ two months, m’lady,’ Shunpike replied. Emmeline was hardly surprised by his answer. Sturgis was giving her a horrified look. He, too, had been thrown back against the seat. He turned to whisper in her ear.

‘Wasn’t there—a reason—I couldn’t come home by magic?’

‘So I was told,’ she answered through gritted teeth.

‘Emmeline,’ he said sharply, or as sharply as he could in his state, ‘Emmeline, you said—when I was upset—something about present circumstances—what’s going on?’

Emmeline was taken aback. ‘Surely–surely you know that the Ministry’s admitted it? That the Dark Lord has returned?’

‘What?!’ he cried, shocked. ‘They–they–did? Well, that’s a good thing, isn’t it?’

‘Shh,’ Emmeline warned. ‘It is, but it also means that now the entire country knows and chaos has erupted all over the place. Sturgis, what did they tell you? I thought you knew; Malfoy and the others were captured that very night.’

Sturgis shook his head, a dazed, tired expression on his gaunt, pale face. ‘All they said–all they said was–Malfoy admitted to–to the Imperius curse—’

Sturgis’s voice broke. Shame was etched all over his features as he looked bitterly into Emmeline’s eyes. She felt a surge of pity and looked up at him. ‘What happened to your eye? Dementors don’t hit, do they?’

Sturgis shook his head. ‘No, that was Malfoy—I tried to resist the curse—’

‘Relax,’ Emmeline said firmly. ‘You are not a failure, Sturgis. It could have been any of us.’

He scowled deeply and bit back a tear, only to be thrown sideways across the seat. Emmeline and Sturgis bumped heads, and she reached over to undo his safety belt. He slumped over against her and laid his head on her shoulder, closing his eyes. She took hold of ice-cold hands and attempted to warm them with her own. Sturgis moaned and slid closer to her.

‘Traffic’s not too bad,’ they heard Shunpike say. ‘Won’ be long to King’s Cross. Where ya goin’?’

‘Why do you ask?’ Emmeline replied very sharply.

‘Dunno,’ said Shunpike, sounding slightly wounded. ‘I woz just wonderin’, is all.’

The car was quiet the rest of the way, except for the sounds of screeching brakes. Emmeline and Sturgis were occasionally thrown about, Sturgis especially because Emmeline had freed him of the safety belt. She regretted it now, and asked herself why she had done it in the first place. She had wanted him to be close to her, closer than the belt would have allowed. But it was because he had wanted to be close to her… wasn’t it?

One particularly violent turn resulted in Sturgis being thrown into the car door and Emmeline, still holding his hands, being dragged forward with him and banging her chin against the seat. Doing her best to ignore the pain, she lifted Sturgis’s hands to her lips, kissed them softly, and let go. She undid her own safety belt, slid over to where he seemed pinned to the door, and allowed him once again to lean on her. She wrapped one arm around him and used the other pass him more chocolate.

He could not smile, of course, and he probably wouldn’t any time soon—his eyes had that deadened look in them, which she recognised as the one Sirius’s eyes always wore—and then she remembered. Sirius. Dead. Killed in action. Sturgis had no idea—and of course, he would want to talk to Sirius—Sirius, who alone amongst the Order knew what his pain must be—Sirius, who was gone forever. She wasn’t even there. And she had to tell the tale.

Unconsciously, Emmeline tightened her grip on Sturgis.

‘King’s Cross Station,’ Stan Shunpike announced, striking the kerb rather spectacularly as he attempted to park.

‘Thank you,’ said Emmeline brusquely, climbing gracefully out of the car and extending a hand to assist Sturgis. ‘You’ve been most helpful. We’ll be on our way, then. Good night.’

Sturgis leaned heavily on Emmeline as they walked into King’s Cross. ‘Why here?’ Sturgis mumbled, barely getting out the words.

‘I couldn’t give him our actual address, and King’s Cross is only a twenty-minute walk from Headquarters. But first let’s sit down; the Ministry has clearly taken pains to keep you uninformed and things have happened—things you cannot go home without knowing about.’

Emmeline led Sturgis over to a bench and the pair of them sat down. Sturgis gave a weighty sigh and murmured, ‘I won’t like this, will I?’

‘No,’ Emmeline answered sadly, ‘you certainly will not, not unless your priorities are terribly out of whack.’

‘Azkaban can do that,’ he said in a stony voice, refusing to meet her eyes.

‘Sturgis—’ Emmeline began almost pleadingly, but found her throat constricted and left her thought unfinished. She settled for holding his hands, as it seemed to have calming effect and she really did not know what to say.

_Sirius would have known._

But Sirius is dead, she reminded herself, and that’s what you have to tell Sturgis. Now quit making it worse.

Emmeline sighed and began to weave her story, though not before scanning carefully for onlookers. They could not afford to be overheard.

‘Before I begin, let me make it clear that I was not at the Department of Mysteries at the time of the battle, and nor were most of the Order—this in particular is one truly damning thing that makes the outcome all the more difficult to accept. If you want a firsthand account, you should ask Alastor or Kingsley, the latter having already relived it for me.

‘The night that Arthur was attacked, it seems the Dark Lord realised that Harry Potter was inadvertently practicing—for the sake of easy understanding let’s call it reverse Legilimency—on him. And so the Dark Lord—’

‘Wait a moment,’ Sturgis interrupted. ‘Arthur was attacked? When did that happen? Is he all right?’

‘Arthur is fine,’ Emmeline assured the agitated Sturgis, whose expression indicated that his heart had skipped a few beats. ‘It was just before Christmas; Arthur was standing guard at the Department of Mysteries. A serpent—apparently sent by the Dark Lord—attacked him, under circumstances similar to—er—’

‘Mine,’ Sturgis finished dully, seeming to wilt before her eyes.

Emmeline nodded. ‘Potter saw it happen his dreams; and therefore Arthur was found and rescued in time. He was Healed at St Mungo’s. But from that moment onwards, Dumbledore suspected that Potter was being possessed; and he decided that the boy must learn Occlumency. This, I am told, did not happen as planned. The details here are rather sketchy, to be honest; it seems that Dumbledore is now using the same strategy on us that he used on his students, outing not a syllable more than necessary.

‘But this point connects directly with what Kingsley was able to tell me of the fateful night itself. Potter had not learnt to close his mind and fell victim to a false vision of Sirius being tortured at the Department of Mysteries. Aligned with five fellow students, including the two youngest Weasley children, he tried to contact Headquarters and was caught by Umbridge. Severus Snape, answering Umbridge’s summons, arrived at her office, where Potter desperately tried to communicate his message. Severus pretended he thought it gibberish for Umbridge’s sake and returned to his own office to contact Sirius, who of course was safe at home. At the same point the students, including Potter, broke free of Umbridge in the Forbidden Forest and did not return. Presumably, they had gone to London.

‘Remus, Alastor, Tonks and Kingsley were at Headquarters with Sirius when Severus called with this message, and the four of them set out for the Ministry straight away. Severus had asked that Sirius be left behind, but he refused to sit idle and went with them. And so those five were the best the Order of the Phoenix could do in a time of gravest danger—that is what overwhelms me…’ Emmeline paused to collect herself; Sturgis was staring at her in open-mouthed horror.

‘Sure enough, Potter and his friends—all but one of whom were either unconscious or otherwise put out of action by that time—had gone to the Department of Mysteries. A group of Death Eaters, including those escaped from Azkaban, were fighting them when our paltry force arrived—and in the end, all six students were rescued; Tonks was badly injured; Cornelius Fudge got a glimpse of the Dark Lord; and all of the Death Eaters including Malfoy were captured, except for one. Bellatrix Lestrange departed with her master, but not before killing…killing…’

Sturgis’s lips formed the word, although he could not say it: ‘Whom?’

‘Sirius,’ Emmeline whispered, choking on a lump in her throat.

Sturgis let out an involuntary cry. ‘No,’ he whispered. ‘Merlin’s beard, no… ’

‘Yes,’ Emmeline replied gravely. ‘He-he f-fell through the v-veil, on the dais.’

‘No,’ Sturgis said, as firmly as he could do, ‘I-I-I don’t–I don’t–I don’t believe it.’

‘I know,’ Emmeline answered. ‘I know, but you must. Here, have some more—’

She had been about to offer him more chocolate when he forcefully pushed her hand away.

Sturgis had got a faraway, miserable look on his face. ‘He was the only one knew what it’s–what it’s like,’ the square-jawed wizard began. ‘The things they–the things they do to you–the things they make you see—it’s enough to make the happiest man on Earth take his own life!’

‘Shh, yes, he was. It’s terrible; I can only imagine what you’ve—’ She meant to say ‘what you’ve gone through,’ but never got the words out. Instead, she simply leaned over to embrace Sturgis, who was now shaking more violently than ever.

‘You weren’t there,’ was all he could say, and she nodded, her face ridden with guilt.

‘I marched into the kitchen, blissfully ignorant of it all, only to find Remus sitting at the table heartbroken, staring at the note Sirius left in the event that someone from the Order should stroll in and find it. The last earthly trace of his one true love…because that’s how they were, weren’t they?’

Sturgis nodded, shivering. They lingered that way for some minutes, sharing each other’s sorrow in a silence that, though it could be easily broken by a train whistle, was at the same time impenetrable. Its shield wore off only when, teeth still chattering, Sturgis spoke.

‘Do-do we ha-have to go back to H-Head-quarters?’

‘Would you rather I take you home?’

‘No…t-too f-far. But I don’t—please don’t make me–please don’t make me s-see th-them. N-not af-ter th-this.’

‘I suppose we could find an inn nearby. Do you want to just have a sleep now? They can wait; they’ll understand.’

Sturgis nodded again, clearly not wanting to resort to verbal communication when he didn’t need it, and made no objection when Emmeline slipped him more chocolate and led him out of King’s Cross.

They walked slowly down the street, arms wrapped about each other. Luckily, there was an inn not far from the station. Emmeline paid the fee while Sturgis huddled in the background, his hands jammed into the pockets of his robes.

Emmeline took the key and led Sturgis to their room. She opened the door first and was surprised, although when she went over her conversation with the innkeeper later she realised that she really shouldn’t have been.

Sturgis stood behind her, unable to see inside the small room. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘Erm…well…there’s only one bed,’ she replied apologetically. ‘I—er—hope you don’t mind, but if you do I can always sleep on the floor.’

Sturgis’s voice was suddenly heavy. ‘I don’t mind.’

Something about his tone made her nervous. ‘What exactly do you mean?’

Sturgis cleared his throat, looking equally nervous. ‘Nothing. Let’s just turn in, eh?’

The two slipped under the covers fully clothed. They lay there in silence, but neither slept. Finally Emmeline could bear it no longer and said, ‘You don’t want to sleep, do you.’ It was a statement, not a question.

‘I don’t want to have dreams. In Azkaban there is no such thing as a dreamless sleep. And now I’ll be picturing this battle over and over again, torturing myself into trying to see exactly where Sirius fell—’

Emmeline shook her head. ‘You won’t have nightmares tonight.’

She could tell from his expression that he did not really believe her, but that he certainly wanted to do so. ‘Good night, Sturgis.’

‘Good night, Emmeline.’


End file.
